He ducks his head, his nose brushing against mine, and kisses one corner of my mouth, then the other. Pulling back, he watches me through hooded eyes and whispers, “I love the way your mouth fits mine.”
My cheeks heat. The way he’s staring at my mouth should be illegal. “I thought you wanted to kiss me.”
He lets go of my face and smirks. “I changed my mind. Gotta leave something for the imagination.”
“Oh, you have no idea how wild my imagination can get,” I mutter with a chuckle. “Come on, let me drop you at home.”
“Just how wild does it get, on a scale of one to ten?” he asks, following me out.
“Do you really want to know?”
I hear him inhale sharply behind me. “Um . . .”
I glance over my shoulder and find him staring at my ass. “Cat got your tongue, Solomon?” I laugh when his cheeks flush. “I love it when you blush.”
“Oh, shut up,” he mutters with a chuckle.
We end up in my car a few minutes later. As soon as we settle in, Sol reaches across the console and grasps the back of my neck, his thumb making circles on the skin there. A shiver skates down my spine, and my eyes fall shut. I could sit here all day and night, just savoring his touch.
“Is this okay?” he asks, and my eyes snap open and meet his intense gaze.
“It’s perfect.” I start the car and drive off, his possessive touch grounding me.
Father Foster wasn’t at home when I dropped off Sol at the rectory. On the way home, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I enjoyed spending time with Sol. If he and I are going to do this, to be together, then I need to talk to his uncle. I decide to stop by St. Peter’s to check if he’s there before heading home.
My heart sprints in my chest, just thinking about facing Sol’s uncle, even though Sol already told me they had a chat about us. He and I are old enough to decide who we are and what we want, but moving on without Father Foster’s blessings feels wrong.
Taking deep breaths, I focus on Sol’s eyes and the way my heart hops and flips whenever I think of him. The way he watched me with so much love and hunger in his eyes. The memory obliterates the panic racing through me, giving me courage.
I find Father Foster in his office, hunched over two large books on his desk, and scribbling on a notepad. Poking my head around the open door, I knock lightly on the wood.
He lifts his head and meets my gaze. His brows pull down immediately with concern. “Hey, Grace. Is everything okay? Where’s Sol?”
I take a step and hover on the threshold. “I just dropped him off at the rectory. He’s okay.”
Immediately, the frown leaves his face, and he leans back in his chair. “What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to talk to you.” My gaze darts to the books on the table. “That is, if you have time.”
His shoulders tense. “If it's about Sol, you already know where I stand. He and I already talked about this.”
I step closer, not discouraged by his words. “I know you are only looking out for him, but I love him.”
He watches me for several seconds, his expression unreadable. What is he thinking? I wish I could read his mind. It’d make this so much easier.
Finally, he waves me to a chair across from his at the desk. Then he steeples his hands together and nods once. “Okay. Let’s talk.”
Before I can lose my nerve, I say, “I can’t stay away from him, and I’m not even going to try to stay away. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry this is not what you wanted to hear. But—” I press my palm against my chest. “He’s everything to me.”
His lips flatten, and eyebrows crease. “You are bad for each other. He’s reckless when he’s around you. He doesn’t think about his actions. That is not the Solomon I know.”
I know what he’s not saying. I am bad for Sol. I’m a bad influence. But he is wrong. So very wrong.
“What if you only knew the part he chooses to share with the world?” He narrows his eyes, his frown deepening. Have I offended him? Gosh, I hope not. I’m walking a tightrope where he is concerned, but I’m not going to back down. I have come this far. “I believe we all have layers that cover who we really are at the core. Maybe for Sol, this is who he really is.”
He shakes his head. “Yes, but . . .” He trails off as if he’s thinking about what to say.
“When Sol left for the seminary, he had a choice. He could have continued with his path to be a priest, but he followed his heart. It led him to me. He changed me as much as I changed him, Father. He saw me just like I saw him. Him. Not the man who wanted to become a priest, but the man who wanted more.”
Father Foster rubs his forehead and sighs. “Both of you need time. You need to take things slowly.”
Inhaling deeply, I rush through the next words. “I know I have given you a reason to hate me. I made choices that led to two people I care about almost losing their lives. I’m going to live with that for the rest of my life.
“You feel that I’m not right for him. And maybe you are right. I might not be right for him, but I love him with everything in me because Solomon Callan is the man I can’t live without.”
He studies me for several seconds, then claps his hands on the table. “I don’t hate you, Grace.”
“Then let me prove to you that I’m good for him,” I plead.
He chuckles suddenly and shakes his head. “You are going to do it regardless of what I say, aren’t you?”
I don’t answer him because I don’t really need to. My silence speaks volumes.
He shakes his head. “You two will be the death of me,” he mutters under his breath.
I sit up straight, feeling hopeful and desperate for his approval. “Is that a yes?”
His brows pinch; his stare intense. “Be careful with his heart. He doesn’t know how to love less.”
It’s not a yes or a no. I can work with that. And Father Foster is right. Sol loves like a man on a mission. When it comes to me, his love is wild and all-consuming.
Relief rushes through me. I stand and clutch my purse to my chest. “His heart is safe with me.”
His features soften, his eyes roaming my face. “How are you doing?”
“Good, actually. School is going great.”
He nods slowly. “Are you still having nightmares?”
Shit. My gaze darts to the door, contemplating if I should make a run for it. “H-he told you?”
Father Foster rubs the nape of his neck with one hand, then clears his throat. “It came up during one of our heated talks.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “He called me out on being unreasonable.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and summon courage. “Maybe he’s right?”
His eyes narrow, assessing me, but then he sighs. “Maybe. I may have been harsh with you, but I hope you understand where I’m coming from.”
I nod. “Of course, I do. I wouldn’t have expected anything less.”
The words hang in the air between us for several seconds. I shift on my feet, waiting.
“Sol told me you are getting help for the nightmares?”
“Yes. I’m seeing the school counselor.”